


Dogfight

by Duck_Life



Category: X-Factor (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Animal Abuse, Boyfriends, Happy Ending, Illegal Activities, M/M, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 05:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15790140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: Shatterstar drags Rictor out for a mission of his own early one morning.





	Dogfight

Shatterstar wakes him up at four in the fucking morning and starts getting dressed like it’s completely normal. “Julio, get dressed,” he urges when Ric tries to burrow back under the covers. “Get dressed. We have to go.” 

Confused and bleary-eyed, Rictor forces himself out of bed and starts tugging on jeans and a sweater. “Where’re we goin’?” he asks, rubbing his eyes. 

But Shatterstar’s already out the door. 

‘Star still doesn’t have a driver’s license, so despite the fact that getting up at the asscrack of dawn is  _ his _ bizarre agenda, Rictor ends up driving. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he says, squinting through the windshield, “but I’m getting McDonald’s.” 

He drives through one on the edge of town and orders a breakfast sandwich, hash browns and the biggest coffee they have. He, at least, is nice enough to ask ‘Star if he wants anything, but ‘Star declines. 

“So,” Rictor says, halfway through his coffee and mildly less pissed off about being woken up, “you gonna tell me what we’re doing right now?”

Shatterstar stares out the window and says, “Dogs.” 

“Oh, good, I was worried you were gonna be vague or something,” Rictor sighs, turning onto the highway. When they’d gotten in the car, Shatterstar had handed him an index card with directions written on it in his careful block handwriting. Rictor still doesn’t know where they’re going, but he knows how to get there. 

After about an hour of driving through early early morning pre-traffic, Rictor finally turns onto a dirt path and rolls the car to a stop outside a big house surrounded by buckling fence posts. “This is the address,” he says, glancing over at Shatterstar, who’s barely said a word the whole drive. Sure, he gets quiet sometimes, but this feels like more than normal ‘Star quietness. This whole things is weird. “You wanna tell me what we’re doing?”

Shatterstar shakes his head. “Inside.” 

As he cuts the engine and steps out onto the scrubby grass, Rictor takes a second to contemplate why it is he’s here at all. Yeah, he’s here because Shatterstar was being weird and said they should come here, but what made him agree to it? 

But then Shatterstar turns and looks at him and Ric’s heart seizes up and he reminds himself that there’s not a lot of places he wouldn’t follow ‘Star to. “Alright, wait up.” 

Shatterstar leads them around the house to the back door. He doesn’t even try the knob first, just punches his fucking hand through the glass and reaches around to unlock the door. “Jesus Christ, ‘Star, you don’t have to… I mean, I could’ve…” But Shatterstar seems to have a one-track mind right now. He pushes the door open and steps into the unlit house, completely ignoring the blood dripping from his hand. Once inside, Shatterstar turns around and immediately spots a dog crate just inside the door. He kneels down, his fingers frantically working the latch on the cage. 

Rictor watches from the doorway, baffled. When Shatterstar said ‘dogs,’ he wasn’t expecting… literal dogs. Dogs of war, maybe. 

But Shatterstar just reaches for the dog cowering in the crate and pulls it up into his arms. “It’s okay,” ‘Star reassures the trembling animal. “You’re safe now. You are free.” He clutches the dog— a pit bull, Rictor thinks, but he’s not great at identifying dog breeds. He watches as Shatterstar pets the top of the dog’s head, gentle behind the ears, such a soft gesture. 

And then Rictor looks around the dingy room and realizes that there are  _ so many more _ crates with pit bulls in them, all just as shaky and scared as the one in Shatterstar’s arms. “Oh. Oh my God.” 

“They are bred to fight,” Shatterstar says evenly, still stroking the dog he’s holding. “Kept isolated from each other, on chains. Then thrown into fights against other dogs for… for people’s entertainment.” He glides his hand over the dog’s back, finding bloody marks and scabs that haven’t been treated. “The dogs that lose are discarded, or killed, and the winning dogs are given special treatment, good food.” His fingers find a matted part of the dog’s fur and he tries to detangle it, smooth it out. “They don’t know why they have to fight, they don’t understand. Julio, look at them, they… it isn’t fair.” 

“I know.” Rictor sinks to his knees beside Shatterstar and throws an arm around his shoulders, feeling all the tension wound up there. He pets the dog that Shatterstar’s holding. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna get all these dogs out of here.” He grits his teeth. “They never have to fight again.” 

Rictor ends up opening most of the cages. Shatterstar seems reluctant to move at first, and then refuses to let go of the dog in his arms, which is mostly fine until Rictor has to herd all the dogs outside and down to the car. Dogs are really made for herding, not being herded. They’re all so traumatized, though, that Ric doesn’t want to risk grabbing them or pushing them. 

“Okay,” he sighs, staring at the mob of pit bulls milling around his car. Some of them, he notices, have their tails and ears cropped. “Now we’ve got a problem. There’s no way all these dogs can fit in the car.”

“I’ve got it,” Shatterstar assures him, finally handing over the dog in his arms. Rictor holds it close to his body, feeling the dog’s heart thrumming. “Just think about home.”

“Not the ASPCA?”

“Home,” ‘Star says sternly, and he crosses his swords. 

In a flash of light, Rictor, Shatterstar, the car and all the pit bulls vanish from that spot and reappear miles and miles away in the parking garage of Rictor and Shatterstar’s apartment building. 

“Great,” Rictor says, struggling with the weight of the dog he’s holding. Shatterstar made the dog look light, but this guy’s gotta be almost fifty pounds. “Here,” he says, handing the dog back to Shatterstar. “Now what?”

“Now,” ‘Star says, looking down at the dog, “we find them homes.” 

“And the ASPCA can’t do that because…?”

Shatterstar looks up at him. “I need to know. I need to see who will become their families. And I need your help.”

“Right,” Rictor says, nodding. He got over being woken up a long time ago. He’s ready to move now. “Well, first thing’s first. God knows how long they’ve been in those crates. We should get them clean. And feed them.”

“Right,” Shatterstar agrees. “How do we do that?”

Ric grins. “I’m going to Walmart to get dog food and dog shampoo. You, just… we’ll get them up into the apartment and you can hang out with them.” Shatterstar nods. 

By the time Rictor gets back with the shampoo and dog food, Shatterstar is sprawled out on the rug trying to give two different dogs belly rubs at the same time. “Come over here and help me,” he insists when he sees Rictor come in. “I don’t have enough arms.”

“Mm,” Rictor acknowledges, coming over and scratching one of the dogs behind the ears. “You think if Spiral ever used her powers for good instead of evil she’d do this? Just pet as many dogs as possible?”

“I would,” Shatterstar says solemnly. 

One by one, they cart the dogs into the bathroom and give them a good scrub in the bathtub. Some of the dogs try to get away, but a couple of them seem to like the water. By the time they’re done, Rictor and Shatterstar are soaked, with soap suds clinging to them like seafoam. 

“Why are you such a splashy boy?” Rictor asks the last dog, scratching him behind the ears. “Huh? Why are you so splashy?” He’s speaking in that baby-talk voice you use with dogs, and Shatterstar looks confused. “Okay, let’s get Splashy dried off and feed everyone.”

By the time they’re done taking care of all the dogs, they’re exhausted. Rictor flops down on the couch next to Shatterstar, who has the first dog back in his lap. “Alright,” Rictor says. “So. Good homes. Who do we know that can take in one of these adorable little troublemakers?”

Shatterstar starts counting on his fingers. “Alison, Xi’an, Dani, Sam, Layla. We could bring some of them to the Xavier Institute. Maybe Piotr.” 

“Looks like you’ve got that all figured out,” Rictor says, leaning down to pet one of the pit bulls lying at his feet. “Did you think of names for any of them?” 

Shatterstar grins. “Snoopy,” he declares, pointing to one. “Scooby. Bruiser. Pongo.” They’re all names of dogs in TV and movies. Rictor grins. “Comet. Santa’s Little Helper. Ubu.”

“Ubu?”

“As in— sit, Ubu, sit.”

“Oh, right.”

“Einstein. Hooch. Astro,” he finishes, pointing to the dog at Rictor’s feet. 

Ric looks over at the dog on Shatterstar’s lap— the one that is definitely, without a doubt Theirs Now. “What about him? What’s his name?”

Shatterstar looks down, brushing his hand over the dog’s back. “Stitch,” he says.

“Stitch isn’t technically a dog, you know,” Rictor reminds him. “He’s an alien.”

“Yes,” Shatterstar says, leaning back against his boyfriend, his new dog warm and safe in his lap. “I know that.” 


End file.
